For Jawan

Okay, Jawan... you're right, it is time for a new post. But you almost gave me a heart attack. You, oh pregnant friend, should not send me an email with "It's time" in the subject line. Not funny. ;o)

Due to many unforseen hormone changes over the past few weeks, I've been a little emotional. I'm either way to energetic to sit at the computer or I'm blah and have nothing to say. That might be t.m.i. for some of you but that's just the way of things right now.

My lovely friend KimHill was robbed this week. It made me very angry. Their house in Roebuck that's been on the market for over a year had all of it's copper plumbing stolen.

We went camping last week and got rained on.

My mom's birthday was Easter Sunday.

What do all of these things have in common? My inability to trust God with my discomfort and pain. My mantra this week has been "That's not fair." I've really struggled. I want to, at the very least, be able to understand why God has done some of the things that He has done. I've struggled with some anger this week.

And then, the other night as I lay trying to go to sleep, fighting God, I had a dream. Maybe it was a vision, I'm not sure. Anyway, I'll describe it:

The wind was blowing strong and steady. I got the impression of being in Tibet, lush and green. I was standing just outside a line of trees, looking out over a wide open grassy place. In the midst of this open place was a well worn path. It wound it's way up the side of a tall mountain. As I watched, I could see a long, long line of people. Most of these people were either holding a baby or helping a sick or elderly person. The journey was long and the line unending. But the people were steadily plodding their way up the mountian. I walked past them, looking for what they were seeking. When I neared the top, I passed several tall statues that resembled the Easter Island statues. The people got quiet as they passed them. At the top of the mountain, in the midst of dozens of 'priests' stood a beautiful woman. I realized in my dream that she was a goddess of some sort. The people were bringing their babies and sick to her for her to bless them. I was overwhelmed with a deep sense a futility. They were seeking life from an idol, healing from a god in their own image. Pointless. And then, I heard God's voice...

and all He said was "This is what you really want. This is what you want me to be."

I really was shocked. No! That's not what I want at all, I insisted. But He reminded me that when He acted like the God that He is , the I Am, it made me angry. I wouldn't submit to His meticulously providential will. I wanted Him to be something that I could understand. A god that makes sense. A god that conforms to my will.

I was soundly reprimanded. Scolded. Humbled. He is so much bigger than my imagination that my mind rebels against the very thought of Him. Does that make Him less God? Just because I forget Him, does He cease to exist? Just because I disagree with His plan, does He lose power? Absolutely not!!!

I am left with a deep and abiding sense of protection. He is God. His vastness is all encompassing. His power is beyond understanding. And His love is consuming. And when I am consumed, I am alive. When I am consumed, I become who I really am.